


are friends "electric"?

by orphan_account



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gay, Howard Moon's Parents, M/M, Nabootique, Teenagers, University, Zooniverse, because everything is, for part of it at least, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23893543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This started out as a drabble about our boys and grew into something much longer than that. Boys figure out their feelins over the course of many years, many near-kisses, and many inturuptions.ORFive times Howard and Vince got interrupted before they kissed. And one time they didn't.
Relationships: Howard Moon & Vince Noir, Howard Moon/Vince Noir, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Naboo the Enigma/Saboo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

A few months after they first became friends, Vince had finally convinced Howard to invite him ‘round to his house. And Howard, to put it plainly, was worried out of his mind. 

Howard’s mum didn’t have anything _against_ Vince, per say. She’d met him once at a parent teacher conference, and it had gone _fine._ But adults tended to only see one side of Vince. The side with the makeup and the hair and the ears he’d pierced himself when he’d gotten bored one time. 

Either way, Howard had a plan. 

Vince would come over after school on Friday. His dad would be at work, his mum at her book club, it was perfect. No odd looks, no comments about Vince’s hair or his clothes, or the overall demeanour that he had about him, one that seemed to automatically repel parents. Howard had never hung out with Vince like this before, it was weird. More often than not, they’d simply sneak out at night and meet each other at the old rail tracks near the edge of town and drink the shitty beers that Vince would steal from his foster parents. 

It sounded a lot more secretive than it was, though. They really only did it to avoid having to be around other people. Other people were frustratingly boring and talked for hours without actually saying anything at all. Vince liked other people, but Howard found them irritating. Not like Vince. Vince was anything but boring. He could spin stories all night long, telling tales of the jungle and the animals and the world outside their little Leeds universe. Even if he didn’t understand all of it, Howard was surprised that such an interesting person wanted to be friends with him at all, and let himself be taken away by Vince to his amazing fantasy worlds. 

The two of them would stay out until the sun was long forgotten, and the stars had made their stunning appearance into the sky. Vince liked to sit in the grass by the side of the tracks and count them, and Howard was quite content to sit and watch him do so. There was something entrancing about the way the delicate light bounced off of Vince’s elegant features. It was striking really, and brought up a confusing feeling in Howard’s stomach he couldn’t quite place. They would walk in circles, taking turns smoking from a cigarette that Vince had gotten from one of the older boys at school, hiding coughs and poking fun at everything and anything, with no one to see them but the moon hanging in the sky. 

The moon, by the way, was quite enjoying their odd dynamic. That smaller one was really very funny, after all, and the taller, awkward one had his charms too, the two of them laughing and cracking jokes all through the nighttime. He hoped it worked out for them, whatever _it_ was. He was the moon, after all.

It was probably odd for two year tens to be wandering around an old track at night telling each other stories, but nothing like that really bothered Howard when he was with Vince.

* * *

The bell rang for their final class. The two boys limped, sweating from the games field after PE, Howard trying very hard to ignore the loud and not at all discreet mutterings from the group of boys walking a few places behind them as Vince looped his arm through Howard’s and led them to the changing room. Vince had art, and Howard had advanced English, so they said their goodbyes after putting their uniforms back on, and parted ways, Vince’s hand lingering on Howard’s upper arm for a little too long, making his face burn as other kids passed them in the halls, uncaring. 

“See you after school, How,” Vince had said, smiling like he always did, like it was a secret between only the two of them, something special. Howard couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He thought about it all through English.

He thought about it as his teacher went through the various symbolism in the poem they were currently studying. 

He thought about it walking to meet Vince in front of the school. 

And he thought about it all the way home, not really paying attention to Vince’s tittering about the girl who sat behind him in art or whatever it was he was going on about. Howard’s brain seemed to shut down whenever Vince talked about girls. He chalked it up to feeling left out, Vince had dated loads of girls after all, and tried very hard not to think about it too much, It made him feel ill.

* * *

Howard’s room was very strange indeed. It was what his parents liked to call “fairly structured insanity”. He had to agree, as from the peeling jazz posters on the off-colour walls to the desk littered with ring marks from not using coasters, his room looked like a music-obsessed hoarder had had a breakdown. It was a stark contrast from the rest of the clinically clean house, and all at once, Howard felt very embarrassed. He didn’t know what Vince’s house looked like, but he was sure that he, Howard, was about to be made fun of.

“This is _wicked._ ” 

“What?”

“Yeah! ‘Oward this is so cool!” 

Howard blinked. “Thanks.”

“Y’welcome!” Vince flopped down on Howard’s bed and smoothed out the brown bed sheets. Howard fought back a grin and sat down next to him. “Gosh, my room’s borin’ as anythin’, me parents don’t wan’ me to have too much flammable stuff in there, They say it’s a safety hazard or summit.”

They sat On Howard’s bed in silence for a bit. Howard wasn’t really sure what to say or do. The image of Vince sitting sprawled out on his mattress wasn’t something he ever thought he was going to see in his life.

“We should probably start on the maths homework,” Howard finally managed to get out. There was a very uncomfortable feeling in the back of his throat all of the sudden. 

“Yeah, you’re righ’. Let’s get to it then.” 

The boys worked fairly steadily through their coursework, Howard giving Vince the answer to a difficult problem every so often, Vince interspersing the talk of variables and factors with anecdotes from his day, making Howarc snort into his hand. 

Vince sighed and lay back onto the mattress, when they’d finally finished, making a snow angel in the sheets, smiling slightly. “D’you _know_ what Mrs Clayton said t’me today?”

Howard closed his textbook and pushed it to the side, joining Vince in lying down and turned on his side to face him. “What’d she say?”

“She told me, right, she told me that my art isn’t “ _representational_ enough”! She said tha’ jus’ drawin’ wha’ever I like isn’t ‘ow I learn or summit. _She said_ tha’ I ‘ave t’focus on real life, an’ tha’ me art doesn’t make any sense! Tha’ livin’ in me own world ain’t gonna get me anywhere.”

“Bollocks. Your art is dead interestin’, Vince. I’ve always said that.”

Vince turned on his side too, his bright blue eyes, glimmering with mischief, just inches away from Howard’s. “Thanks ‘Oward, you’re a mate.”

“Anytime.”

Howard inhaled suddenly as Vince wrapped his free arm around Howard and pulled him into a hug. Vince was always more touchy than him, but this had never really happened before. His body stiffened for a moment before sinking into it, and (he would hate himself for this later) he felt himself lean into Vince as he pulled away.

Vince was a bit pink, Howard couldn’t blame him, he probably was too. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“‘Aight.”

There was silence again. Silence that built up like a fog and surrounded them. Vince was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and it was taking _all_ of Howard’s self control not to stare. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, but neither of them moved away from each other. 

Vince tended to be very touchy with people, specifically with Howard. It never really made Howard uncomfortable, but it always caught him off guard. What caught him even more off-guard was that as the awkward moment passed between the two of them, Vince didn’t take his eyes off of him. Vince's eyes were hypnotic, truly, and it was impossible not to get lost in them. 

“Vin-” 

Their faces were so close to each other. They were never this close together. _Never._ Howard’s chest hurt and everything was spinning. Howard was vaguely aware of Vince’s hand resting on his upper arm, but didn’t move away. Vince’s head was cocked sideways like an inquisitive bird, still chewing on his bottom lip. 

Howard had never really noticed before quite how pretty Vince’s lips were, come to think of it. 

“Howard?”

Howard’s bedroom door banged open, and Vince’s hand shot off of his arm. Howard took a moment longer to react, to pull his gaze away from Vince’s face and piercing eyes.

“Oh. H-Hey mum.”

“What’s going on here?” 

Howard’s mother was an extremely imposing figure. She was very tall, and always wore knee length skirts that couldn’t help but remind Howard of his teachers. “Oh um. Vince came over to do some studying.”

Vince sat up awkwardly and forced a smile. “Hi.”

Howard gulped. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright just,” his mum rubbed her temple. She didn’t seem angry, just frustrated. “Just tell me the next time you have _friends_ over, Howard. My book group is over right now.”

“I thought you were out today?”

She shook her head. “We moved the meeting here. Dottie’s kitchen flooded. I told you this morning.”

“You didn’t.”

‘I _did._ Now just. Keep the door open, alright? You know the rules, Howard.”

“I just thought-”

“It’s fine darling. I just like to know what's going on. Just let me know next time, okay?”

One of her book club friends called her name from downstairs, and before Howard could even get out the word “okay”, she’d left, leaving Vince and Howard sitting in that uncomfortable sticky silence again. 

“So…”

“So.”

Vince cracked a grin. “D’ya think the tuck shop’s got the strawberry laces back in stock?”

“What, after you bought them out last time? I doubt there was any left in Britain after that.” Howard touched his tongue to the tip of his teeth and grinned. 

“There’s only one way t’find out.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard and Vince set out on a new chapter of their lives, and Howard struggles to come to terms with feelings that he barely understands.

“Jesus, ‘ow much of this stuff are you gettin’ rid of?”

“I don’t know. All of it? None of it? Is that how this is s’posed to work?”

Howard dumped the contents of his desk drawer onto the floor of his bedroom and started sorting through it, most of it ending up in the massive bin liner he’d brought in from the kitchen. 

“I think you’re meant to get rid of _some_ things. It is a _caravan_ we’re gon’ be livin’ in, remember?”

Howard scoffed, not looking at Vince. He stared for a moment at the large pile of broken binder clips in front of him before dumping them all in the bag. “You’re one to talk, little man.”

“ _What?_ ”

Howard didn’t look at Vince, but he could picture his face. Lips pursed in the characteristic _‘o’_ of faux confusion that Vince’s features knew so well, eyes wide and shining. 

“I’m not the one who needs a moving van just to carry my clothes!”

“S’cuse me! I’ve spent _years_ perfectin’ me look. I’m not about to leave behind a bunch of perfectly good clothes jus’ cos I’m movin’!”

“Alright, alright, relax.”

Howard pulled a box of old photos out from under his desk and dumped them out too. Most of them were old pictures of him as a small child, him and his parents on holiday, at his Grandmother’s on Christmas. Managing to slide several baby photos out of Vince’s view, Howard sorted through the rest resignedly. _What was he meant to do with all of these?_ The ones he wanted to take with him were already packed. Blurry photos of him and Vince taken on bonfire night, and on their school trip to Brighton. 

Vince slid off of Howard’s bed onto the floor. “Er… ‘ow are your parent’s bein’ about it?”

“Not great. My mum still says I’m throwing my life away.” Howard sat up straight and put on a very bad impression of his mother’s high pitched, posh voice. “ _‘You could do so much more, Howard! You’re giving up so many opportunities just to go off with your friend!’_ She’s not happy.”

“Yeah,” Vince said, sorting through the array of old postcards on the floor. He picked one out and turned it over, quickly scanning the message scrawled on the back.

“She said, _well_ , she said she thinks you’re a bad influence on me.”

Vince snorted and went back to sifting through the pile. “Get stuffed! I’m a brilliant influence! If anyfin’ you’re a bad influence on me! Who’s idea _was_ it to ditch our GCSEs to apply to spend our lives workin’ at a zoo?”

“Yeah well. I haven't exactly told her that bit.”

“So she thinks this is all my idea?”

Howard shrugged half-heartedly. “Prob'ly.”

“You absolute _bitch,_ ” Vince smirked and punched Howard on the arm. “This is slander!” 

“Yep.”

Vince hugged his legs to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. Howard had been trying to avoid looking at him all day, as Vince had recently started wearing very tight jeans. Howard wasn’t quite sure when _that_ had started, but he figured it probably went hand in hand with the ice blue eyeliner. It made Howard feel a rush of inexplicable emotions that he’d rather not think about. Disregarding this, Howard returned to the pile in front of him, tossing most of it straight into the bin liner without a second thought. 

Howard knew the whole affair was going to be quite depressing, and he’d really rather just get out without all the fuss. His parents… hadn’t offered to help him pack, and honestly, he couldn't blame them. What he had neglected to tell Vince was the entirety of how they’d reacted when he’d told them that they were moving in together.

Howard’s parents didn’t care that it was for work.

Howard’s parents didn’t care that there was _nothing_ going on between him and Vince.

And Howard’s parents especially didn’t care that Vince was really quite sweet when you got to know him.

All Howard’s parents cared about was that their son was moving in with another man, a man who they had steadily disapproved of for over half a decade. A man who they were sure had corrupted Howard to skip his GCSEs and had ruined his chances at a successful life, when if anything it was the other way ‘round. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” his mum had said.

“You’re going to regret it,” his father added, not even bothering to look up from his work.

“I won’t,” Howard had said, before returning to his room and staying there for three days.

He knew that they wanted the best for him. It was just hard sometimes. And it was a bombshell he’d dropped on them. It did _hurt_ though, to hear his parents telling him he could do so much better. He couldn’t do better. What was better than Vince? He was _sure_ this was what he wanted.

* * *

Months later, when it was finally time for him to start packing up his stuff, he was less sure. Quitting school had seemed like a good idea at the time. Vince had been behind him all the way, saying that he didn’t need his GCSEs to get a fashion BA anyways. Howard was fairly sure that wasn’t true, but Vince was pretty much unstoppable.

Howard too, had spent weeks making lists of what to bring and what to throw out and what to just leave behind. He’d been so sure this was the right thing to do.

“Independence,” he’d told Vince one drunken night, sitting by the rail tracks, “Is so much more important than school? Right? Like, my mum keeps trying to tell me that it’s not worth it, not sustainable, that I need practical skills but _do I?_ ”

They had been sprawled out in the dewey grass, staring at the sky talking. Howard couldn’t remember exactly what Vince had said, but he just hoped it was something motivational and inspiring rather than just drunken rubbish (although knowing Vince… probably not).

The moon had been particularly bright that night, that was one thing Howard could remember. Brighter than is really should've been, or maybe that was the alcohol playing games with him. He couldn't help just... _staring_ at his counterpart, the light reflected so delicately on his sharp, contoured features, his soft perfect lips, those _eyes_. And Howard was suddenly struck with the overwhelming desire to do... something. He couldn't place it, it was unlike anything he'd ever felt. Like someone had taken his heart and clenched it hard. For a moment he couldn't even breath.

And then the moment passed, and Howard didn't know what to think. He turned his attention back to the sky, hoping beyond hope he might find the answers there.

* * *

 _This is a good idea,_ Howard thought as he and Vince dragged his luggage down the pebble drive.

 _This is a good idea,_ Howard thought as he loaded his suitcases into the back of his car, precariously balanced on top of Vince’s many _many_ more.

 _This is a good idea,_ Howard thought as he got into the front seat and turned the key in the ignition.

 _This is a terrible idea,_ Howard thought as Vince slammed the passenger side door closed and turned in his seat to face Howard.

“You alrigh’ mate? You’re lookin’ a bit peaky.” 

Howard dragged a hand down his face. “I can’t do this.”

“Whatcha mean? This was _your_ idea for Christ’s sake.”

“Vince! I can’t just drop everything to move halfway across the country to live in a caravan with my mate! That isn’t how life works!”

“Why not?”

“Just—because it isn’t! I have to _think_.”

Howard could feel himself panicking, but he _wasn’t_ going to let himself. He was Howard Moon, Man Of Action! Men Of Action didn’t panic. Men of action were calm and collected and could bloody well work at a zoo if they bloody well wanted to!

“‘Oward.”

He turned to look at Vince. Vince who was a prick at times and very irritating but also one of the bravest and most beautiful people Howard had ever seen. (Not beautiful, never beautiful. Just… forget he said that bit.) They could do this, right? 

To be fair, staring into Vince’s eyes made Howard feel like he could do anything. 

“‘Oward I promise, it’s goin’ t’be absolutely ace, alrigh’? There’s nuffin’ t’worry ‘bout.”

Howard inhaled deeply to catch his breath and steady his racing thoughts. Vince’s sweet, almost candy-like smell surrounded him and wrapped him up. “I know.”

“We don’ ‘ave to do this if ya don’ wanna.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

 _What do_ you _want?_ Howard wants to ask. _I’ll do whatever. I just want to do it with you._

But he doesn’t. 

Vince was very close to him again. He was chewing on his lip, with the air of someone coming to a big conclusion. Those lips. Christ on a bike. “‘Oward?” 

They were inches away now. 

“Yeah?” Howard barely breathed the words out.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Y-Yeah.”

“I think I'm-”

A sharp rapping on the car window woke them both from their coma. Howard smacked the wheel so hard he winced, and Vince shot back against his seat. Howard opened the car door and got out, shooting a scathing look at Vince, who was badly holding peals of giggles in the passenger side seat. 

His mum and dad did not look impressed. 

“Yeah?”

“I’ve made you dinner for the journey,” his mum said, an oddly forced looking smile on her face, passing a plastic tupperware box to him.

“Thanks.”

All of a sudden, he felt a bit teary.

“Make sure to wear warm clothing at night, _Heaven_ forbid that tiny caravan you were talking about has any centralised heating. Make sure to wash your hands on a regular basis, animals have _germs._ And just,” she eyes flicked over Howard’s shoulder, and he knew she was looking at Vince. “Just make good choices Howard. I love you so much.”

“Love you too mum.” He kissed her cheek and gave her a hug. He wasn’t crying. He was _not_ crying. 

“Love you, son, call whenever you want, okay?” his father said, also giving him a big hug. 

“I will.”

Howard wasted no time in pulling the car out of the driveway once he was sure both of his parents were safely back inside the house. Vince had popped a mixtape into the car's cassette player, something electro and very Vince.

"What is this?"

"It's the _Human League._ You'll like 'em."

"Hm."

Maybe it _would_ be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY - this has been in the editing stage for weeks. The net chapter might take some time to come out, I'm not sure where I want to go with it quite yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ZOO TIMES!!! Howard overanalyzes, as per usual. This chapter is a little messy, sort of ranty - a little OOC, but I love it a lot and I'm publishing it anyway.

The caravan was relatively cosy. Yes, it was cramped and smelled like animals constantly and got really hot at completely random times and freezing during others. And yeah, a zoo was a noisy place at night and everything was always sticky and humid for some reason, but after only a few months, it started to feel like home. Although, only if ‘home’ was also occupied by a gorilla, a slightly annoyed fortune-teller, and their boss, Bob Fossil, possibly the most irritating person Howard had ever met. 

The two of them had eventually rejected the less-than-sturdy bunk bed provided to them in favour of sleeping head to head on the floor of the caravan. It was less humid that way, and regardless of whether or not Vince was on the top or bottom bunk, he always ended up on the floor in the middle of the night anyway, the loud thump of human hitting floorboards waking both of them up. (Well, that was what woke Howard up. It was more likely that Vince awoke at the feeling of plummeting eight feet onto a hard wood floor.)

Living with Vince was an odd thing. They seemed to fall into a routine, after a while. Howard would wake up first, make breakfast for the both of them, and would then wake up Vince, who would spend up to an hour getting his hair exactly how he wanted, showering in the caravan's tiny bathroom, and eating breakfast at the speed of light, although not particularly in that order. Howard would swoon over his newest obsession, a distinguished woman who worked in the reptile enclosure, Mrs Gideon, Vince would scoff, and they would continue as per usual. Vince didn't like talking about Mrs Gideon. Frankly, Howard didn't think that Vince liked her in general, the side eye looks he gave her whenever Howard was attempting to strike up conversation were enough to say that. It was weird, and Howard didn’t understand it. Gideon hadn’t  _ done  _ anything to Vince, they barely talked aside from a few compliments she had accorded him for various and wildly unimpressive zoo tasks. He was nice enough to her, always returning her smiles and waves throughout the day, but his brain seemed to turn off completely whenever Howard talked about her.

By now Howard had gotten used to the little things about Vince, things he hadn’t even picked up on until they started spending every day and night together. As much as he hated himself for it, he’d started keeping a running list in his head of all the little quirks of Vince’s, all the things he could turn to just to make himself a little less dour. Vince never failed to do that.

_ The list was as follows; _

  1. _Vince sang in the shower. It got on Howard's nerves at first, usually the same three songs over and over, but after a few weeks, Howard found he didn’t mind it. Vince, of course, didn’t have one of the limitless voices like some professional singers did, but he could carry a tune well enough, and something about the absolute joy in his voice as he sang along to Gary Numan made Howard’s heart clench in his chest._
  2. _His hair rarely looked the same two days in a row. Their school hadn’t permitted ‘artificially coloured hair’ as they called it, and almost the moment Vince had left he’d started going mad. It went from blonde to brown back to dirty blonde and then to a sort of mousey colour again. He cut it short, let it grow out, and cut it once more. When it grew long again, he added red streaks, then blue, and then both at the same time. Two weeks later he decided he didn’t like them anymore, went out to the hairdresser and came back with a mane of blond highlights and layered fringe, insisting it was all the range._
  3. _He painted. A lot. This one didn’t come as so much of a surprise, he’d always been big into art, but apparently Howard didn’t know the full extent. It was rare for the caravan to not be cluttered full of half-finished paintings, and the whole place commonly smelled of a combination of oil paint and artistic frustration._
  4. _Vince made his own clothes as well. He’d started taking a part time BA in textile design at St Martins, despite the fact that he hadn’t technically completed his last year of school. Howard had come to the conclusion that Vince was some kind of witch—there was no other explanation._



There was more, but certain things Howard preferred to keep locked away in the back of his mind, things he only really thought about at night—when Vince was either asleep, or out with Leroy. He tried not to think about Vince too much, it made his stomach clench.

Instead, Howard redirected his attentions to Gideon, and the cycle continued as usual, with his attempted advances, rejection, comfort from Vince, and then some mild weeping, if he was feeling particularly macabre that day. Work at the zoo wasn’t hard. It was boring, sure, but what the hell, it paid the bills, and it gave Howard something to do. Granted he didn’t like it as much as he thought he would when he applied for the job, but that was the case for most things in his life. 

* * *

One particularly dull Tuesday afternoon, Howard was attempting to get one of the monkeys to eat something. The particular primate had been looking peaky all week, and they were at the intervention stage at that point, Fossil saying that it was bad for business. The man’s thinly veiled threats about what would happen to Howard if he didn’t sort the issue out ringing inside of his mind, he set out to rectify the situation best he could. 

Pushing small bits of feed through the monkey’s cage was getting him absolutely nowhere, however. Vince was best at this sort of thing, why hadn’t Fossil asked  _ him?  _

Vince was doing a school tour that day, taking the group of children around the Zooniverse, making stuff up about the animals he didn’t know anything about—which was all of them. Howard could see him from across the courtyard, entertaining the large group of seven year olds with what appeared to be a combination of animal facts, stories from the jungle, and some kind of interpretive dance. Vince was good with kids. They listened to him because he was like them. It was rather sweet, in a way. 

The monkey had begun throwing its food everywhere, including at Howard.  _ Shit.  _ Swallowing his pride, Howard made his way across to Vince. For a while, he sort of floated at the back of the group of kids, looking for a good time to interject. Finally seeing him, Vince rolled his eyes and pointed towards something Bollo was doing inside of his cage to divert the childrens’ attention before wandering over in Howard’s direction.

“I need your help with something.”

“Now? I’m kinda in the middle of summit.”

“Yeah, I can see that, thanks,” Howard snapped. Then, feeling bad, he said, “Look, I’m sorry, but the monkey won’t eat anything and you know what Fossil’s like. If he thinks I can’t even get a bloody monkey to eat he’ll wallop me over the head with a pike.”

“Yeah, alrigh’. C’mon then.”

“What about the kids?”

“Eh, they’ll be fine—watch Mr Bollo, kids, I’ll be righ’ back.”

The two of them made their way back to the monkey enclosure, and Vince crouched down by the cage, only barely being able to bend his legs in his tight trousers. Howard looked around, at anywhere but Vince, as the smaller man muttered something to the monkey. He tilted his head, listening for a moment, before snorting loudly, and nodding, then standing up and stretching his legs. 

“He says the food is shite.”  
“What?”

“What is Fossil  _ feeding  _ them? Apparently it tastes  _ awful.  _ He don’t wanna eat it anymore. I don’t blame ‘im honestly. I wouldn’t either.”

“Bollocks.” Howard dragged a hand down his face. “I’m going to have to talk to Fossil, aren’t I?”

“Prob’ly. Sorry mate.”

“S’alright. Thanks for helping little man.”

“No problem.”

They stood in silence for a moment, words clinging to Howard’s tongue that he desperately wanted to say.  _ What was going on with him recently?  _ This was all too much. 

“Look,” Vince started, and Howard’s heart leapt into his throat. “I’ll come with ya to talk t’Fossil. Don’t worry about it, he  _ likes  _ me.”

“Oh… um, thanks Vince.”

Vince smirked. “Y’welcome, ya big tit.” He reached up to pull at a strand of Howard’s hair, and the snappy  _ Don’t touch me!  _ died in Howard’s throat. “Christ alive, Moon. You’ve got to let me do something with this hair. It’s getting out of hand.”

“Say  _ you!  _ Have you seen your hair recently, sir?”

“S’cuse me! Mine’s s’posed to look like this! It’s dead fashionable!”

Before Howard could stop himself, he’d reached up to grasp Vince’s wrist. They stared at each other, neither saying a thing. Vince looked up at him, long lashes and bright blue eyes, a mixture of confusion and… was that excitement? Desperation? Howard didn’t know what in the world to think. 

All that was required was for one of them to move the smallest bit closer and-

“Are you guys married?”

Vince’s head turned and his hand dropped from Howard’s face immediately. “What?”

Some of the little kids from Vince’s group had wandered over, inquisitive eyes looking up at the two of them. The smallest one looked about seven, and asked again, “Are you married? Only you look like you're married.”

Vince beamed at the child and crouched down so he was face to face with him. “Why’d ya say that?”

“I dunno. My mum looks at my dad like that.”

Vince smiled again. He gave one more glance in Howard's direction, and then turned back to the kid. “Do you want to see the lions?” The kid nodded furiously, all previous thoughts forgotten, “Alrigh’, then, Let’s getchu back to the rest of your class, yeah?”

They left, leaving Howard feeling incredibly disjointed, and rather put out, with no explanation as to why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my updating schedule has been weird but I'm on a roll now, and I figured people would want chapters sooner, rather than later.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed chapter! I'm @/edenismissingsnake on tumblr and Instagram if you wanna check out my work :)


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